


Deserving

by rawrkinjd



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Eskel (The Witcher), Breathplay, Come Swallowing, Eskel Has Self-Esteem Issues (The Witcher), Eskel Has a Big Dick (The Witcher), Explicit Sexual Content, Hot Springs, M/M, Oral Sex, Restraints, Rimming, Self-Harm, Smut, Top Lambert (The Witcher), Whipping, Winter At Kaer Morhen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25081717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawrkinjd/pseuds/rawrkinjd
Summary: Eskel believes he deserves pain and humiliation. Lambert gives him what he wants.
Relationships: Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher)
Comments: 146
Kudos: 260





	1. What You Want

Lambert handed over the reins of his gelding to the stable hand along with a few lintars for his trouble. The brothel was three streets over, but he wanted a drink first. He always needed a drink first. The diluted piss water that passed for ale in the local tavern barely touched the sides, and he topped it up with a dash of White Gull to give it some edge. Not too much. He needed to keep his wits sharp for what happened next. 

The temperature had dropped in recent weeks. Soon it would be time to make the treacherous journey up the slopes to Kaer Morhen and spend three and a half bleak months with the ghosts of winters past. But he had to get through the next month first.

The front of house took one glance at him and gestured to the back staircase. He walked unmolested past several of the girls, and some gave him curt nods of greeting. The door was unlocked as usual and he took a deep, steadying breath before he stepped inside.

Eskel was already waiting. 

Completely naked, he was kneeling on the floor by the side of the bed. Perfectly still. The room was a decent temperature, but goosebumps erupted along the surface of his tanned skin at the sight of the door opening. He didn't look up. Knew better than to move or to say anything. Lambert walked to the dressing table and began to unstrap his armour one piece at a time. He didn't even acknowledge Eskel's existence. The metal and leather clunked heavily against worn wood, and he noted idly that one of the straps on his pauldrons was wearing through. Once he was down to just his trousers and boots, he turned and approached the bed.

They chose this whorehouse because the management were discreet, but well stocked. Eskel had laid out all the usual items; a flogger, a set of metal cuffs for both wrists, neck and ankles strong enough to bind him, a gag, a horse whip and… a set of knives. _Fucking knives._ Lambert snatched the horse whip and the cuffs from the bed and finally looked at Eskel for the first time. He looked fucking majestic as always, and Lambert averted his eyes to hide his pupils blowing wide.

"You've lost weight."

"The contracts have be--."

"It's pathetic. Call yourself a Witcher and you can't even feed yourself properly."

"No."

Lambert surged forward, his gathered items clasped in one hand while the other struck Eskel hard in the face. The sting would ripple out across sensitive scar tissue, and Eskel's stuttered gasp betrayed the pain. "No what?"

"No, sir."

"You're not worthy of that medallion around your neck," Lambert sneered and buried his fingers in Eskel's hair. He yanked his head back and watched the discomfort warp those handsome features. "You disgust me. Why should I waste my time?"

"Please…"

"Please what? Speak up."

"Make me worthy again, sir."

Lambert let him go and Eskel slumped forward. "Wrists behind your back." The cuffs clicked easily into place, and Lambert wrapped the remaining two around Eskel's ankles. It kept him in a hog tie, except metal wouldn't break and shear under a Witcher's strength like rope. "Fifteen for being a disgrace to your school, fifteen for disrespect. You'll count them."

The first blow of the whip was always the hardest. Eskel's body was a marvel. His sculpted back, his barrelled chest, the light dusting of dark hair that met in the middle and travelled down his abdomen to the dark curls around his groin. Marking it felt like sacrilege. But Lambert swallowed the bile rising in his throat and struck. Eskel gasped, "One." The sound cracked through the room like a lightning strike. There was no point going easy or starting slow.

 _Two. Three. Four. Five_. Lambert hated this. He hated it with every fibre of his being. _Six. Seven. Eight. Nine._ But it stopped Eskel going and finding other ways to 'do his penance'. _Ten. Eleven. Twelve_. It started with Deidre. _Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen_. And then got worse when Ciri arrived. _Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen_. Lambert had caught him with a fucking knife and his wrist. _Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one._ 'I need to atone. I'm not good enough. I'm a failure.' _Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four._ 'It will heal Lambert, it doesn't matter, I deserve it.' _Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven._ This was the alternative. The agreement they had. _Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty._

No one else could know. Especially not the Wonder Boy. He'd swoop in and try and save the day. Eskel would die from the shame of having to be rescued by Geralt from himself a second time. Lambert lashed out and flicked Eskel's cock with the end of the whip; he yelped and flinched, despite the rules, and Lambert snarled. "You're a useless piece of shit, Eskel. What would Geralt say if he saw you now? Tell me."

"That I'm - a worthless piece of shit."

"Yeah. Too fucking right."

The lines on his chest were red and raw. Pearls of red beaded at odd intervals where some of the lashes had been hard and repetitive enough to break the skin. Eskel's eyes were wide, each panted breath lifting his broad shoulders and straining the chains behind him. Lambert stepped forward and pressed his fingers into one of the opened welts and Eskel bit back his hiss. "Such a good little whore. Doing exactly as you're told." Lambert growled, and then took that mop of black hair in his fist again. "Let's see if that mouth is still good for more than just counting, hm?"

Eskel said nothing. He never did. Not unless an answer was directly demanded of him. He was too well trained. One session Lambert had to punish him for breathing too fucking loudly of all the inane shit. Eskel was the golden child of the school. He was the best among them. The only person that couldn't see it was him. Lambert undid his belt and trousers enough to pull his cock free. Still completely soft. "Better get me hard if you want your sorry ass fucked, slut." 

With an eager nod that tested the grip in his hair, Eskel leaned forward and lapped at Lambert's prick. "Better than anything this place has to offer." Lambert tried to focus on Eskel's face rather than the bullshit falling out of his mouth. That handsome jaw, those eyes like twin sunstones, the way his tongue was warm and wet, his thick lips so full and beautiful as they took Lambert's burgeoning erection between them and began to suck. "Mmm. Good. Might be worth a profession change. But then, who'd pay for your ugly mug?" 

Eskel rumbled in agreement and Lambert pressed his fingers down those scars again. The other's eyes rolled as he sucked in earnest. His tongue laved attention down the thick vein underneath the shaft and swirled expertly over the glans. It was good. _So good._ But not what Eskel wanted. "Fuck, bit of praise and you get lazy. Can't even suck a dick right." Lambert snapped his hips forward; the head of his cock breached Eskel's throat and he felt it tremor as Eskel fought his gag reflex. With a firm grip in Eskel's hair, he kept his cock lodged deep until Eskel began to shake with the need to breathe. Witchers could take a lot. Hold their breath for a long time. Lambert tested the limit and then withdrew. Eskel gasped in a huge lungful of air and coughed as saliva clogged his airways. "Pathetic." Lambert shoved forward again. This time he didn't stay. The pace was ruthless and Eskel's face reddened with the effort of suppressing his natural desire to fight it. 

"Think you've earned a fuck." He growled, and walked around the back to unchain Eskel's wrists. The cuffs stayed in place and he hauled Eskel over to the foot of the bed. "Bend over. Feet shoulder width apart." Lambert hooked the chains around the bed frame once Eskel was low enough, and then walked over to his bag. When he returned, he lashed his belt in a loop around Eskel's neck and rested the tail end down his back for now. "Nice and clean for me. Such a good little slut." Fastidiously clean, in fact. Lambert doused his fingers in oil and immediately pushed two inside Eskel's tight rim. The Witcher tensed immediately, but did not surge away. Fighting the urge to tell his would-be lover to relax, Lambert eased into his last knuckle and crooked and heard Eskel make a strangled noise. "Not sure you deserve to come. Might just take what I want and leave you chained to the bed. The next john that visits can get a two for one deal."

Eskel whined, but stayed perfectly still. Lambert moved his fingers gently until Eskel's body began to relax, and then he pushed in a third. "But you like a nice, thick dick, don't you? Wouldn't do if he wasn't packing any heat. You'd be begging for me back, wouldn't you? Answer."

"Yes, sir." Stuttered out in that deep, smooth baritone that always made Lambert's heart swell when he heard it for the first time at the start of winter. 

"Beg for my cock now."

"Please, sir. Give me your cock - ahh - I want it so b-bad, fuck. Please." With every twist and thrust of Lambert's fingers, Eskel's body spasmed in protest. He was tense and conditioned to expect discomfort. Lambert hated it.

"Don't think you do. Can't even beg properly." He twisted his fingers and Eskel lurched; the tail end of the belt shifted along his back and Lambert snatched it up. The loop tightened around Eskel's throat and he wheezed. "If your ass feels good, I might let you come."

"Yes, please. It will. I will be." Eskel braced his hands on the frame of the bed and Lambert watched his shoulders bunch in preparation. Oh to spend an hour working Eskel open until he was moaning with fucking bliss, to make him shiver and writhe, beg out of overwrought pleasure rather than a desire to be demeaned. Lambert tightened his grip on the belt and pulled. The loop cut off Eskel's airways as he lined his cock up and thrust inside. The only sounds Eskel made for some time were gurgled gasps as Lambert's hips snapped forward in a relentless rhythm. He knew where Eskel's sweet spot was, but the fucker always tried to angle away. Like he didn't want it to feel good. 

Lambert loosened the belt and Eskel gasped in several huge lungfuls of air in between whimpers. The fingers biting into his hips were bruising, and he yanked on the restraints until they cut into his wrists. Lambert closed his eyes and tried to imagine having Eskel laid out in his bed in Kaer Morhen. The fire would be burning high, they'd be well fed, maybe a bit drunk, he'd rub nice oil into Eskel's skin and make him purr. Then he'd work him open with gentle fingers and praise, before making love. Nice and fucking slow. No cries or whimpers; just moans. _Yeah, fuck. Fuck._ Getting close. He reached around and found Eskel's cock, so fucking inhumanly massive, and hard thanks to the stimulation inside. "Come for me now."

Almost on command, Eskel peaked. It shuddered through him as hot seed soaked Lambert's fingers. The desperate clutch of Eskel's body tipped Lambert over after only a handful more thrusts, and he pulled out just far enough for the come to leak from Eskel's rim as his cock twitched.

Without a word, he undid the belt and the cuffs, and he stepped back. On shaking legs, Eskel walked to the wash basin in the corner of the room to clean himself off. There was no time for aftercare here. They didn't have the room for long. No. Aftercare in Eskel's head was a beer in the tavern nearby and a chat about local contracts. 

Meanwhile, Lambert was dropping through the fucking floor. He felt sick. A low, simmering misery deep in his chest. Witchers didn't feel emo - _yeah, fucking bullshit. If only._

While Eskel cleaned, Lambert tidied the instruments of his torture away and pulled his clothes back on. He wandered over briefly to clean the oil off his prick and cast a quick glance at Eskel's neck and chest. The bruising and welts would heal quickly. Didn't make it any better. He watched Eskel half limp over to his clothes and armour, neatly arranged in the corner of the room. It wasn't long before he was back to his usual self; red and spiky. Lambert loved the flamboyance of his armour - the little bits of additional stitching, the red ties - there was no mistaking Eskel for any other Witcher. He looked up as he shouldered his bag. "Ready to go?"

Lambert nodded. "Yeah. After you."

They sat in the tavern together and drank. Eskel talked about an erynia he'd slain a week ago, and Lambert dreamed of a day when he could love Eskel the way he deserved.


	2. What You Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel is wounded and vulnerable. Lambert gives him what he needs.

Dread is an odd emotion. When it happens suddenly, it feels like someone has ripped the floor from beneath your feet, and you're just falling. You leave your heart and lungs behind, because for one horrific moment neither of them work. They stutter, you panic. There's a roaring in your ears that drowns out all but that single, harrowing realisation -

Lambert found Scorpion first. The black stallion was as familiar to him as its owner. He was lying at the side of the road, his body pinned with arrows and his gut ripped open. The contents of his saddlebags were strewn out, but on first glance it was too chaotic to be human. _Wolves._

"Eskel!" Lambert called down the path. A human would've missed the quiet grunt of acknowledgement from further in the thicket, and Lambert abandoned Scorpion's remains to pick his way through the shrubbery. The smell hit him first. Burnt flesh and blood; it sat, thick and cloying, in the back of his throat. Fading autumn colours gave way to blackened scorch marks, and Lambert almost fell over the first charred corpse. From what remained of the armour and livery, it was identifiable as a Redanian soldier. _Barely._ There were six more scattered around the circle of destruction, their metal armour and chainmail melted to their skin, what remained of their faces twisted in agony. At the far end, sprawled inside the huge roots of an aging oak tree, Lambert found Eskel.

Two arrows stuck out from his stomach, his grey shirt saturated in dark blood. More pooled around his right leg and as Lambert crouched by him, he saw the open wound in his thigh. "Eskel, talk to me. Talk." He knew his voice shook and he fought to keep a level head even though his panic reached a crescendo. _Not Eskel. Please don't take Eskel_. There was no one to exact vengeance on here. The Witcher had taken his assailants with him. Of course he fucking had. You didn't corner a dragon and expect to escape the fire. The only enemy that remained was death, and by the pallor of Eskel's skin, its icy claws were sinking ever deeper. 

"'Bert," Eskel's amber eyes opened and shone in relief despite their haze of pain. "Ambush. Zealots." Every word hurt, every breath disturbed the barbed arrows allowing the life to drain from him. Zealots. Radovid. Not for the first time, Lambert felt a burning need to commit regicide. The king of Redania was a madman and religious nutjob. A truly lethal combination. He'd single-handedly painted a target on every non-human and magic user from here to the Nilfgaardian empire, and for the more industrious fanatic that included Witchers. 

"Gonna' get you somewhere safe. Then I'll make it better. I promise."

"Scorpion..." Eskel's voice cracked, edged in misery, and his head lolled back.

"I know, big guy, I know." Lambert stroked a hand through Eskel's hair and put his other fingers to his own lips. A shrill whistle summoned his gelding, and it picked its way obediently through the wreckage towards them. Lambert never named his horses. There was only so many times they could get eaten by a griffin or crushed by a troll before it became easier to just treat them like another tool; with care and consideration, but no emotional attachment. He teased Eskel relentlessly for his love of everything hoofed and horned - Lil' Bleater and succubus included - but not now. Scorpion was forever off the cards. Eskel loved that fucking animal; a faithful companion; his only company to stem the loneliness of the Path. It was like losing a brother.

"Gonna' snap the arrow shafts off to make you easier to manoeuvre. Then you're getting on the horse, alright?" He received an affirmative grunt, but Eskel was fading in and out of consciousness. There was no telling how long he'd been laying here bleeding; exhausted by fighting with injuries and expending huge amounts of energy for his Signs. The arrow shafts came away easily, and then Lambert grabbed Eskel's arm and hauled him from the floor. The weight wasn't the problem. Eskel was just _so much bigger._ "Foot in the stirrup. C'mon." 

Eskel latched onto the pommel of the saddle and helped as much as he had the energy to. He almost fell off the otherside, but Lambert gripped his arm to keep him steady. Once he was in the saddle behind him, Lambert wrapped an arm around Eskel's waist and kicked his heels in. There was an abandoned village two miles away. Soldiers had used the excuse of war to pillage and loot their own people; the remaining refugees had fled in an attempt to protect themselves. By the grace of whatever fucking deity was still watching Lambert's back, one of the houses was left relatively untouched; he'd spotted it from afar while passing through. It even had glass in the windows and a door on the hinges.

Lambert carried Eskel inside and found a bed in the far left room. Although dusty, the sheets weren't rotten or damp, and Lambert folded them back to keep them free of blood for later. Once Eskel was settled, he headed out, grabbed his saddlebags and then set to work stripping his brother's armour and gambeson away. Lambert cut carefully through the grey linen of his shirt to get a look at the wounds and confirmed his main issue; the arrowheads buried in Eskel's abdomen were barbed. His mutations had saved his life - stomach wounds like this would always be fatal to a human - and Lambert had to use a knife to cut open tissue trying to heal around the intrusion. Eskel groaned in pain but remained still as Lambert worked. "Nearly done, big guy. Stay with me. I'll get you some Swallow once the stitches are in."

Shirt fibres had been pulled in with the tip of the arrow, and it took a few minutes of rooting with tweezers to find it all. Eskel was still floating in and out of consciousness; his snarl of pain when the dwarven spirit soaked over his wounds was reassuring. Groans of pain meant the body was still fighting; silence meant death. The leg was easier; a clean slice from a sword, so Lambert eased away the blood clotted material of Eskel's trousers, cleaned and stitched it closed with little fuss. Bandages were next, and Lambert had to lean Eskel against him as he wrapped his ribs. He couldn't help but take in deep lungfuls of Eskel's scent as he did; tainted in pain and blood, but still _Eskel._ The skin under his palms as he rested him back against the pillows was hot and clammy. Infection. With Swallow, Eskel would fight off the worst of it, but he needed time to rest. Time they didn't really have as winter closed in.

"Right. Drink this. Then you need to sleep. I'll be right here. Not going anywhere." Lambert stroked a hand over Eskel's head, smoothing sweat- and blood-soaked hair from his face. 

"I'm sorry." Eskel croaked. "Didn't know."

"We'll talk about it later. Just sleep."

* * *

It took two days for Eskel's fever to break. Lambert mopped sweat from his skin and tried to get him to drink as much as possible, but mostly he sat and waited. Powerless. If Lambert had decided to stay in Kaedwen a bit longer, if he hadn't fancied a little jaunt to Tretegor, then Eskel would be dead. Murdered by humans for the _crime_ of existing; of doing his job and protecting them. The world didn't deserve Eskel. Neither did Lambert. He'd wasted so much time believing that Eskel was one of life's eternal, immovable objects. Taking him for granted rather than cherishing every moment.

He'd been there since the beginning. The firm hand that picked Lambert off the floor during his training years, that brushed him off and tended to his wounds. Eskel weathered Lambert's anger like no one else; saw something in him that was still a mystery to this very day. He dealt with the snark, the jokes, the ‘prickliness’ as Geralt liked to call it, and always had one of those big, toothy grins waiting for Lambert when he came around. Through loyalty, Lambert had wanted to save Eskel from himself, but still fallen into the trap of thinking _Eskel_ knew what was best. 

_I just need to be punished, Lambert. I’ve done so much wrong. I just need… something. Can you do that for me? No one else can know. No one._

Agreeing was the biggest mistake of Lambert's life so far. Right on up there with being born in the first place. His role had been cemented. Eskel's punisher; his torturer. Not his - _fuck, not his lover._

And Lambert was too fucking good at it. He made himself sick.

Too much time to think was dangerous.

Lambert felt crushed under the burden of guilt and regret _._

The weight only lifted when two amber eyes flickered open and that deep timber rumbled through the silence of the house. "Lambert."

"Welcome back," Lambert sat down on the edge of the bed and pressed a hand to Eskel's chest when he tried to sit up. "No. Take a moment."

"Where are we? What - ?"

"Just outside Denesle. About ten miles. Found you half dead in the forest." He guided Eskel's hand away from where it plucked at the bandages wrapped around his abdomen.

Eskel squinted in silence and then slowly the memories returned through the haze of groggy pain. "I took a contract for a wraith. Killed it, but Redanian soldiers were - waiting for me on the way back. They - got two arrows in me and two in Scorpion - before I knew what was going on." 

"Fucking Radovid. He's just letting them run riot as long as they turn up to the battlefield on time," Lambert hadn't let go of Eskel's hand; their fingers, caked still in grime and blood, wound together on the bed. "Fuck. I thought you were dead. When I saw Scorpion, and - ." He rubbed his free palm over his eyes. "Hungry?"

"Yeah." Eskel didn't want to let Lambert's hand go either and his fingers tightened for a moment when the other stood to leave, before finally relinquishing his hold at an insistent tug.

Dinner consisted of salted venison jerky and Lambert uncorked his final bottle of dwarven ale to share between them. They sat in silence, and Lambert occasionally stretched out a hand to touch any part of Eskel that remained within reach; his leg, his hand, his forearm with its cross hatch of scars. It provided reassurance. Eskel was warm, alive, _still here with me._

Once they'd cleared out his supplies of jerky, Lambert collected some water from the village's well and heated it with igni. "Gonna' wash you. You look worse than Geralt after his selkiemore special."

"I can do it - ." Eskel pushed himself up against the flimsy pillows behind him.

"No. You move too much and it'll hurt. Just let me." Lambert pushed those big hands away from the wash cloth he pulled from his bag, and placed the bowl in Eskel's lap. He hesitated for a moment as he levied his gaze on the intense, bright eyes that looked back at him from that battered, bruised _\- devastatingly fucking handsome_ \- face. _I almost lost you._ His touches gentle as he brushed the cloth across Eskel's forehead, mopping away caked blood and soil. It was impossible to stay clinical. As Lambert progressed down the right side of Eskel's face, tender and reverent, his thumb strayed free and stroked across that full lower lip, lifting to notch gently in the grooves created by his scars in the upper. Eskel's smile was unique; always genuine, always warm. A smile he'd almost lost forever. A smile he'd never plucked up the courage to kiss, despite daydreaming about it for decades. "Eskel. I'm gonna' - ."

They never had. Not once. Tenderness wasn't part of their arrangement. It'd never been negotiated or discussed. Eskel wanted punishment and pain, but in that moment, as Lambert cleaned his face and touched his mouth with affection ashine in his eyes, Eskel wanted whatever happened after. "Okay."

Their lips slotted together as if the gods had made them that way. Lambert's fingertips fluttered over the ridges on Eskel's face, and through the hair at the nape of his neck; tasting him, scenting him, feeling him. He kissed Eskel's full lower lip and then slipped his tongue over it to explore the taste of his mouth. Those big hands were hesitant, so Lambert guided them to his neck and waist; so strong, so grounding, and when Eskel finally gripped back Lambert was happy to be pulled against him. That single, heady moment stretched on forever; it felt like they had merged into one, their senses overwhelmed and their relief shared.

Lambert pulled away first, but only far enough to rest their foreheads together. "Well shit," he rasped. "It was better than I thought."

"How long’ve you been musing on it?"

"Mm, couple of decades, give or take."

"Huh." Eskel rubbed the back of Lambert's neck and slipped his fingers beneath the hem of his shirt.

"Easy, big guy. Let me finish cleaning, then you can get some sleep. We'll - uh, figure out what the fuck this is tomorrow morning." 

"Sleep next to me. S'warmer up here." 

Lambert studied Eskel's face carefully. There was anxiety there; something he wasn't used to seeing in the older wolf outside of their sessions. He just nodded and continued his gentle ministrations; that amazingly thick chest, muscled thighs and calves, his defined biceps and forearms all tenderly washed. He didn't skirt around private areas either. The bowl moved onto the mattress, and he smirked as Eskel's prick, despite the overwhelming exhaustion of its owner, still managed to rally a valiant showing. "Knew you were a sucker for being treated all sweet." A light tease as he carefully rinsed between Eskel's legs.

"Mm." 

_Shit. Was that - was Eskel being fucking shy?_ Lambert raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. Instead, he emptied the dirty water and refilled the bowel to clean himself before he slipped into the bed too. It was… slightly awkward. Mainly because Eskel's shoulders rivalled the broadest fucking plateau of the Blue Mountains. In the end Lambert threw caution to the wind and carefully spooned up against him, limbs arranged to avoid agitating injuries. Sleep came easily that night.

* * *

He shouldn't have let his mind stray. It was difficult. Eskel's body was just so fucking gorgeous. Lambert had the good grace to roll carefully onto his side before he wrapped a hand around his prick, his other holding one of Eskel's hands. His thumb circled slowly across the back of it as he tended to himself with swift, brutal jerks. Foolish to think the musky scent of his precome as it beaded around his head wouldn't wake his companion. Let alone when a quiet, gasped 'Eskel' slipped free...

Eskel's hand tightened around his, and he stopped immediately, balanced on the torturous precipice of release. Eskel whispered in the dim morning light. "Don't stop."

The request ricocheted around Lambert’s head. Eskel wanted him to come. _Not on his own._ "One condition," Lambert rasped. "I want to do what I'm fantasising about."

"What's that?"

"Sucking you off." He heard Eskel's breath hitch, pretty sure he could also hear his heart hammering away in that broad chest of his. _Pleasure_ was not part of their arrangement. Lambert had just decided it would be from now on. The only part.

"Yeah. Sure - that'd be - ."

"If you say the word 'nice' - ." Lambert shot a censorious glance over his shoulder, and then rolled onto his front. It took a little bit of coaxing to arrange Eskel as he wanted; lounging back on the pillows with his legs spread enough to accommodate Lambert between them. His monster of a cock sat over the bandages wrapping his stomach, and Lambert's mouth _watered_ in anticipation. With one hand still wrapped around his own, he sank his elbow into the lumpy mattress below and licked slowly from the base to the very tip. Eskel's hips shifted and his head fell back against the pillows in winded surprise; those big hands - always so hesitant - carded through Lambert's hair and stroked over his beard. When Lambert swirled his tongue around the fragile join of skin behind the glans, Eskel let slip his first breathy moan.

 _Fuck. It sounded so fucking beautiful._

There was no way Lambert was getting every inch in his mouth despite his burning desire to, so he wrapped his free hand around the base and swallowed as much as he could. His fingers slid easily through the mixture of saliva and precome leaking down Eskel's shaft as he worked and Eskel couldn't bite back his noise. He gripped Lambert's hair and a fist full of the sheets at his hip and Lambert glanced up into amber eyes bright with adoration. Eskel panted as he drew closer and a vague, distant part of Lambert's brain worried over the state of the stitches in his stomach. 

"Lambert - pull off, I'm - ." Eskel looked startled when Lambert shook his head and sucked him deep. His cock hardened in the first throes of his orgasm and Lambert moaned. It was enough. Eskel came with a bitten off shout, his fingers tightened until Lambert's hair follicles prickled. The evidence of Eskel's pleasure soaked Lambert's tongue and he gulped it greedily, pressing his hips down into his own palm as he quickly followed suit. The _taste_ of him. The scent. The sound. He wanted it all. Wanted it again. If Eskel in pain was the hellish nightmare, then Eskel melting in ecstasy was the ethereal dream. Lambert sat up on his knees and then leaned over without hesitation; he planted his hands either side of Eskel’s waist and took his lips again. Their spent cocks pressed together - slick, hot - and Lambert sighed in desperate bliss.

“I want this,” Lambert breathed against Eskel’s mouth. “I want you. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. Give me a chance to make this work.”

Eskel touched him hesitantly still, almost like he was worried about causing harm, and then finally spoke, his voice thick. “I - I want this too.”

Lambert huffed a laugh. Relief. Eyes closed, he nuzzled gently across Eskel's face. “Thank fuck.”

* * *

Lambert salvaged what he could from Scorpion and loaded it onto his gelding, then he built a small pyre around him and propped Eskel up so that they could honour him together. With the snow biting at their heels, they embarked on their journey north. 

For the first time since he’d been dragged, kicking and screaming, through the gates of Kaer Morhen, Lambert couldn’t wait to get home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 will be entitled "What You Deserve".
> 
> Feedback is welcome.


	3. What You Deserve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lambert and Eskel negotiate some new boundaries. Lambert can finally give Eskel what he deserves.

The towers of Kaer Morhen loomed tall in the mists, but seemed to hover at the same distance no matter how much ground they put behind them. It didn’t help that the trek up the trail took a few more days than it usually would; Eskel endured the pain of his wounds without complaint, but Lambert was wise to his martyrdom. They stopped regularly and Lambert went foraging for enough herbs to make a rudimentary painkiller to take the edge off. He mixed it in with the remainder of the jerky and refused to move on until Eskel had eaten the entire portion. Lambert could out-stubborn a fucking mule, so Eskel gave in after a bit of huffing to save face.

The hall they stumbled into was warmed by a huge blazing fire. Four pairs of eyes turned to inspect the new arrivals, bedraggled and filthy. Predictably, Vesemir and Geralt inspected Eskel’s injuries and interrogated him about their origin; he gave them the condensed version, but was sure to mention how Lambert had saved his life. Wonder Boy had his bard _and_ his sorceress with him this season, and Lambert spent time exchanging barbed pleasantries with Jaskier while he waited for dinner to finish. He wanted to go to bed and curl against Eskel’s side, luxuriating in the safety and warmth of their home.

Before they could burrow away under the copious amounts of furs and linen sheets on Eskel’s bed though, they had to wash away the year's worth of road dirt clinging to every inch of their skin. As Eskel left his seat at the dinner table, Lambert grabbed a jug of wine and two goblets to take with them, ignoring the curious look he received from the damned bard. They collected clean shirts and braies from their packs and headed down the dark, damp corridors to the springs beneath the keep.

Even in the dead of winter the cavern was warm, with a constant ambient sound of running water from the very bowels of the mountain. The Aen Seidhe’s placement of Kaer Morhen hadn’t been accidental. The manufactured brick of the keep melded effortlessly into the natural stone of the mountain, with long disused stone benches, bowls and partially rotten furniture scattered around the sides.

When he arrived, Eskel was slowly stripping away what remained of the clothes Lambert had salvaged from his torn saddlebags. The wounds were mostly healed, but a dull, aching pain permeated every muscle; recovering injuries, exhaustion from the Path. Lambert felt the latter _acutely_. He watched Eskel carefully while he folded their clean towels nearby. “You all good?”

“Yeah. Just feels like someone’s punching me in the gut, and everything feels stiff.” Eskel grumbled as he sat on a natural ledge in the rock underneath the water. 

"Stiff, eh? I can help you with that." Lambert smirked as he climbed in at Eskel's side.

"Hmm," Eskel glanced at him diffidently and scooped water over his shoulders. "We - uh, need to talk about what happened."

"Yeah," Lambert reached over his shoulder and grabbed the soap. "You regretting it?"

"No." Eskel said, abruptly, and then rubbed his scars in the way he always did when he felt self-conscious. "I liked it. I just don't want you to feel like you owe me anything or - ."

"Fuck off, Eskel," Lambert growled, and then punched him on the shoulder. "You don't know shit about what I feel, cause I've only ever treated you like crap. And it's not happening anymore."

"Right, then I'll -."

"And you're not hurting yourself either. You don't -," Lambert grit his teeth and took a deep breath. "- you don't deserve it. And if I find out you have, I'll tie you up and… fucking sit on you." _He wasn't sure what he’d do,_ but Eskel seemed amused. "Don't fucking smile. You're not… it's too…" _...I love it._

"So, is that an order then?" He twisted to grab his own soap and cloth, and they washed aimlessly as they spoke.

Because Eskel liked following orders. It gave him a sense of stability and purpose; he didn't have to think or worry. Lambert's brow creased and he propped his elbows behind him. _He could give Eskel that._ Take away his responsibility and make him feel light just for a little while. It didn't have to hurt either. _It could feel good._ For both of them. "Yeah. It's an order."

"Right, and how do we keep it separate from everything else?"

"I don't expect you to suck my cock on demand, Eskel," he smirked. "Unless you want that." The way that Eskel swallowed and shuffled in his seat - _oh fuck, okay then._ "Just do what we did there. You can ask me whether it's an order when you… want that, and I'll say yes or no if - if I want that too."

"Right. Sounds easy enough."

"And another thing, you always take whatever I throw at you, and you definitely hated it all and that - I don't want that - so, you need to tell me."

"Alright, I'll just say stop?" 

"Nah, you might like it if I - uh, just think of another word. You know, one that will kill the mood and I'll know you're not happy and -."

Eskel nodded. "How about Grasses?"

"Oh yeah, that'll do it." Lambert watched Eskel rub soap over his own chest and his mouth suddenly went dry. _Yes. Yes thank you._ He grabbed Eskel by the wrist and tugged. "Straddle my lap." He began to move immediately. "Ah. Forgetting something?"

"Oh, right," he cleared his throat. "Is that an order, sir?"

 _Alright. The sir was nice._ Now that Lambert knew it wasn't attached to a whip. _That could stay._ "Yes. Get over here, big guy."

Eskel stood and then hesitantly lowered himself over Lambert's lap. His hands hovered in space. He was nervous. Lambert took those giant paws and placed them on his shoulders, before he slid his fingers through the soap suds on Eskel's chest. Tanned skin rippled under the pressure, dark hair smoothing away; Lambert circled a thumb around both nipples and Eskel sucked in a gasp. "Hm. Like that?" Silence. "Answer. I want you to answer all my questions."

"Yes, I like it." Eskel whispered, and Lambert filed it away as his hands wandered lower. The slow exploration revealed a few more nuggets of gold; Eskel liked having his chest touched _a lot_ \- he pushed into Lambert's hands and his eyes fluttered when the pressure was just right - but also his ass and thighs. The touch needed to be firm, like he was wanted, and if he could arch or push into it, he liked it even more. In fact, by the time Lambert finished and washed the soap away, they were both hard; Eskel from the simple pleasure of being touched in the _right_ way, and Lambert because Eskel was _hot as fuck_ and kept making quiet, muted sounds like he was struggling to contain himself.

"Stand." Lambert murmured, and then watched as the water poured down the curves of Eskel's muscled thighs. Without another word, Lambert washed the rest of him. Thoroughly. Eskel tensed only when Lambert washed his ass, soaped fingers sliding down his cleft. _Yeah_. Lambert would be anxious too if he'd only ever been touched roughly. "Rinse, then sit on the edge. Where the stones are warm, and lay back." There was a small patch of stone and tiles warmed by the currents underneath; nice to lounge on after a scrub. It was there that Eskel sprawled out as commanded, and Lambert waded over to stand between his legs. "Doing well, big guy. Don't want you to be scared of me touching you anywhere." 

Gentle fingers stroked over the inside of Eskel's knee and then scooped beneath it. Lambert kissed and licked up the inside of each thigh; teasing, worshipping. He spent time at each scar he found and left behind a few red hickeys to _mark_ what was his, if only temporarily. Eskel’s shivering gasps devolved into deep moans as Lambert sucked across his balls and the base of his cock. He almost missed the next order. "Pin your legs back. Present yourself to me." The words vibrated up Eskel’s spine, but it took guidance to adjust into position until he was splayed out as requested. Lambert leaned back for a moment to admire the view, fingers stroking the tight curves of Eskel's ass and up behind his balls. "You look so good like this. Feel alright?"

"Yeah." Voice thick, breathing hitched. Lambert guided his right hand further until Eskel gripped his own cock, thigh braced on his forearm. 

"Mm. Better. Stay spread. Don't you dare move other than to jerk your dick. Clear?"

"Yes, sir." 

Lambert allowed a purr to rumble up from his chest, and then leaned forward to kiss and lick his way down Eskel's balls to his entrance. The firm circle of his tongue earned a _startled_ sound of pleasure; somewhere between a gasp and moan. For now, Eskel remained still. Feeling out the sensation, muscles bunching and relaxing under the attention of Lambert's tongue. He seemed to prefer long, wet licks that ended with a flick of the tip just inside; tight muscles fluttering. Lambert had a vague concern that someone would walk in, but _fuck it_ ; the amount of times he’d walked into the armoury or the fucking _kitchen_ and found Geralt knuckle deep in his bard. Besides, Eskel was stroking his cock now and _enjoying it_ ; the dribbles of precum soaked over his fingers and Lambert drew away briefly to lap beneath his head. 

It was going to be the quickest orgasm of Eskel’s life. His other hand gripped the wrist that hovered near his hip, because Lambert was still stroking him in soft circles as he slurped and moaned against him. The headspace was… _similar_ , but a world away from the usual cold void. Eskel couldn’t put his finger on it. He was at Lambert’s mercy, doing as he was told, and there was a small element of humiliation as Lambert’s tongue - warm, so wet, and _so_ good - swirled around him and dipped inside. But he _wanted_ it, he wasn’t _enduring_ it because he deserved it. He felt warm, _happy_ ; the well of pressure in his chest wasn’t composed of pained cries and wounded whimpers, but the need to moan and beg for more. With each pass, with each long lap that sent prickles of pleasure through his hips, it became more difficult to stay silent.

Then his voice echoed around the cavern as he came into his fist. "Fuck, _Lambert - hmm, ahh!_ " 

Lambert's heart did a little backflip when Eskel quaked _noisily_ through his climax. He'd never been loud. Sometimes a cry or yelp of pain. But this was desperate in an entirely different way. Breathless awe. With a final parting kiss, Lambert drew away and lowered Eskel's legs until his feet were in the water again. "Like it when I can hear you. Don’t be silent anymore." Kisses pathed their way down the inside of Eskel’s thigh and back to his knee where they had begun; Lambert stayed with him until he sat back up, and then helped him slip back into the water. The brush of Eskel’s lips were a surprise; he hadn’t initiated anything yet, but now he pinned Lambert to the stone wall of the spring and kissed him tenderly, pulling away only to nibble down his jaw and neck, before he purred into his shoulder. 

That was the best bit. The purr. Eskel just _didn’t._ Sometimes Lambert ‘caught’ him purring very quietly in contentment near a warm fire with a good book, or in happiness when Lil’ Bleater was hopping around the courtyard, but _never_ in pleasure. It was a precious rarity. Lambert slipped his arms around his waist and pulled him close to purr right back. “You did good. Proud of you.” _The purring practically echoed in the cavern._

Sliding into Eskel's huge bed at his side was a sweet relief. Lambert pulled one of those big arms around him, happy to be a little spoon. Crowded by Eskel's scent and warmth. _His_ Eskel.

* * *

The following day they went about their business as normal. A bit of training in the morning, followed by a handful of chores in preparation for the heavy snowfall. During his free time, Lambert picked some herbs from the greenhouse and spent a few hours making a nice oil, instead of his first batch of moonshine. The scent was very light. Not really important. It was how it _felt._ He knew some of the herbs had certain properties when applied to the skin - numbing, burning, tingling - the first two he didn't want, and the first batch he made got dumped out the door as the skin on the back of his wrist burned red. 

The _second_ batch - a combination of some herbs they used to make their draconid and relict oils - proved to be a success. It was extremely slick, which meant he wouldn't need much, and when he smoothed it over his wrist the skin tingled lightly. _Only one way to test it properly._ Trousers dropped around his ankles, Lambert grit his teeth and smoothed some down his cock. "Ahh, okay." _Yeah. This was good._ The sparks lasted a couple of moments and then dissipated, leaving behind a pleasant flutter like featherlight caresses across the skin. _Now he had to try it on his ass._ He heaved a sigh. "For science." _And Eskel_. The sensation was the same; it would feel great. More than great if Lambert had his way. _Thank fuck._ And Lambert decided to test its capabilities and jacked himself off with a palm full. "I'm a fucking genius." He gasped to the empty hall.

That evening he made sure the fire in Eskel's room was piled high and plied him with enough wine over dinner to make him merry, then hauled him upstairs to bed. Their lips pressed together the moment they got to the top of the spiralling staircase, and didn't pull apart until they were naked in the middle of Eskel's bed. Lambert pulled away long enough to pick up the earthenware bowl he'd left on the bedside cabinet. With one arm still wrapped around Eskel, he placed it on the bed just behind him.

"What's that?" Eskel glanced over his shoulder.

"Oil. Made it for you. Lift this leg up towards my shoulder and lean in." He tapped Eskel's outside thigh and assisted by shuffling a little lower; they lay chest to chest, their faces barely inches apart and Eskel’s leg hooked over Lambert’s bicep. It was comfortable. Intimate. Lambert wanted Eskel to feel safe as they explored their new boundaries. "Going to tease you for a bit." He dipped his fingers in the bowl just behind Eskel's rear, and then slid them slowly over his balls in a wide circle. 

"Haa - ahh. Is it meant to - ahh, fuck, tingle?"

"Yeah. Good?"

"Fuck yes."

Lambert grinned, slipped his arm up to cradle Eskel's head in the crook of it and plunder a deep kiss. His fingers continued to work lower, occasionally dipping back into the bowl to keep them sopping with oil. The man in his arms was shivering with enjoyment, one large palm pressed over his chest while the other snaked down between them until it was stopped by the barrier of his own cock, hard and wanting. The moment Lambert’s finger circled Eskel's rim and his lover tensed, Lambert nuzzled him, "Relax. It's okay. Won't hurt this time. Promise. Gonna’ make you feel good, like you deserve."

"Is that an order, sir?" Croaked. Eskel was anxious.

"Yeah. 'Tis. Let me look after you." The broad shoulders in his arms slowly relaxed. Lambert worked his finger pad into the soft, tight furl he'd kissed only the night before. He stayed slow and gentle as Eskel's body clenched and relaxed sporadically, unable to fully let go until the promise of ‘no pain’ had been proven. Finally, with his lips pressed to Eskel's once more, he slipped a finger inside. Timid muscles clutched at him, stuttering, until the oils began to work their magic and Eskel gasped into Lambert’s mouth. 

Lambert withdrew his finger until just the tip hooked inside his rim, before pushing back inside to the knuckle in one fluid movement. When he added a second, the process repeated again; a nervous tension, followed by a slow, shivering surrender. Eskel was clutching him tight with the leg hooked over his arm and Lambert grinned into the throat bared to him when his lover gave up trying to coordinate a kiss. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Good.”

“Just good?” He crooked his fingers carefully; _about two inches in, at the front, and -_

“F - fuck,” Eskel bunched again, breath held. “That.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Do that again.”

“Gonna’ ask me properly?” Lambert slipped his fingers out, teasing with a light pressure. There was no bite to his tone, and when Eskel tucked his chin down to look at him, he offered a playful wink. They could get more hardcore later, if that’s what Eskel wanted, but Lambert was currently floating high in the clouds somewhere, because he had Eskel wrapped in his arms getting steadily more breathless with each loving touch.

“Please, sir. _Do that again._ ”

Lambert hooked his fingers and moved them a little faster, circling the spot that elicited desperate, quiet moans. The addition of a third finger met with only brief resistance before Eskel melted again. “Think you’re gonna’ come from this, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Touch your dick.”

Eskel managed to wrap a hand around his shaft, his hips rocking slowly in time with the three fingers moving inside him, head smearing precum through the hair of Lambert’s stomach. The orgasm that poured through him was the strongest he’d ever had; his entire body shook, from head to toe, and Lambert smashed their mouths together as if he wanted to consume the wrecked noises escaping Eskel’s chest; animalistic and desperate. Their lips parted reluctantly and Lambert gently eased his fingers free, two sets of amber eyes locked together; one studying hazy pleasure, while the second set basked in open adoration. Eskel spoke first, “I’ve come twice now, and you haven’t.”

“Don’t worry, big guy. You can make me come in a bit.” He nudged Eskel over onto his back and straddled his hips. “Not sure what I want first. Ride you, or fuck you.” For now, while Eskel recharged, consuming his skin would have to do. Lambert leaned forward on his hands to kiss and suck down Eskel’s chest, tongue swirling around each hardened nipple, teeth grazing lightly down his side. It was better than any fantasy. The fire blazed behind them, Eskel sprawled out on the furs, confident enough now to touch any part of Lambert he could reach. It wasn’t long before that purr was back and Lambert pressed his ear to Eskel’s chest to listen. “Want me to do this all night?”

“No. Ready for round two. Want you to come.”

“Hmm,” Lambert smirked. “On your hands and knees then. I can show you an even better angle.” Eskel hesitated at first, and then slowly rolled over once Lambert moved to the side. Warm hands guided him down onto his elbows, each instruction murmured with praise and followed by a series of kisses on his back and shoulders. “Knees a bit further apart - yeah, good job - now arch your spine down a bit - perfect. Fuck, Eskel. You look amazing.” There was that flush again; his neck, the tips of his ears and no doubt his face, currently buried in the pillow. “Second thought. Gimme one of your wrists.” 

Lambert arranged his grip carefully; his thumb and half the heel of his hand pressed into Eskel’s palm while his fingers took the remainder of his wrist. Something for Eskel to hold and tug against at the same time. The body before him twitched and shuffled - anxious, excited - and Lambert rested the head of his cock against the pink, glistening hole he’d teased open moments before. He eased forwards slowly, watching as Eskel’s body split wide around the flare of his crown and swallowed each successive inch with soft "oh, ohs" that, had Lambert not heard it himself, he’d never have attributed to the bear of a man sprawled out in front of him.

“You okay, big guy?” Softly spoken, Lambert squeezed the hand in his grip and massaged his thumb into one solid thigh.

“Yeah, so good, Lambert. _So good._ ” The oil tingled every time Lambert moved, the thick heat of his cock stretched Eskel in the best way; he was sure he could feel Lambert’s _pulse_ inside him. There was no pain, no discomfort, and when his lover pulled out it left him feeling empty and desperate to be filled again. “Please. _More._ Please, sir. Fuck me.”

Lambert growled in pleasure and began a slow, deliberate sway that pressed his balls flush to Eskel’s body with each thrust, his head staying just inside the rim with each withdrawal. Sweat beaded on their skin and Lambert pushed his palm through the shining film of it on the curves of Eskel’s body. His own panting grunts, elated gasps and delighted ‘Eskel’s’ accompanied by his lover’s desperate, blissed whimpers and guttural moans.

Eskel’s knees spread further and further outwards until Lambert was grinding into him; a relentless, glorious rhythm against his prostate that pushed him to yet another shuddering peak. The thirsty clutch of his body elicited a pleased snarl from Lambert who shoved himself deep as he came. “Oh, fuck. _Eskel._ ” He gripped the narrows hips in front of him and pulled them back for one final gyration of his own, before he withdrew. The cum dribbled from the stretched pink lip of Eskel’s hole and Lambert dropped back to run his tongue through it; Eskel dissolved with a surprised bleat, toes curling and fingers bunching in the sheets until Lambert was finished slurping from him.

“You - what the fu - ?” Eskel couldn’t manage words as Lambert arranged his limbs more comfortably for him.

“Get some rest. You’re gonna’ need it.”

The next time they made love, Lambert rode that monstrous cock he’d admired for years and legitimately thought his ass would never go back to its normal size afterwards. _Worth it._ He introduced a silk blindfold and a bit of rope the time after that; Eskel could break out of it if he felt panicked, but he just melted into bliss instead. The rope could stay. _Oh fuck, Lambert was totally getting some toys from Ard Carraigh next season._

* * *

“Something’s going on with Eskel and Lambert.” Jaskier murmured to Geralt over breakfast one morning.

“Yeah, they’re fucking.” The witcher replied, airily. “It’s about time.”

“You’re such a romantic, dear wolf,” the bard rolled his eyes. “How do you know?”

“Lambert smells of Eskel, and Eskel smells of Lambert.”

“Oh, and I saw Eskel fucking Lambert against a wall yesterday.” Yennefer chimed in as she plucked an apple from the centre. “They were so loud I’m surprised Vesemir didn’t make them run the Killer.”

Jaskier got his confirmation a day later when he found Eskel and Lambert in the corridor outside their room. Eskel had Lambert pinned to the wall, their lips locked together in a fiercely ravenous kiss that left them both flushed, lips swollen and hair mussed. The bard whistled. “Well, Eskel. There’s no accounting for taste, I suppose.” Two sets of amber eyes immediately turned to him. Lambert grabbed Eskel’s shoulders and wrapped his legs at his waist; Eskel scooped his hands beneath his ass with a wry smirk, and carried him effortlessly into the bedroom.

Lambert stared Jaskier down, middle finger proffered at him over Eskel’s shoulder, until he disappeared behind the closed door.


End file.
